


For You, Love

by just_a_winchester



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety, Cancer, Drama, Emotional Baggage, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Slow Build, the sheriff's name is John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-07-10 08:49:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6976243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_a_winchester/pseuds/just_a_winchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles returns to Beacon Hills after two years away. He's missed his family, his friends, his life. Most importantly, he's missed the man he loves. But things change, and Stiles realises he has things to apologise for, explanations to give and mistakes to amend. Lies can only lead to more lies, so what happens when the truth comes out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles returns home after a long time away.
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: this fic may contain some topics that are sensitive or triggering to readers. Read on at your own discretion.

Stiles hadn’t thought he’d ever make it back here.

Home. Beacon Hills, California.

When he stepped out of the taxi, the heat slapped him in the face. It had been so long since he’d felt warmth like this – two years in Germany had been two years of cold, snowy winters and barely warm summers. 

This was like stepping into a sauna. He could already feel his shirt clinging to his back, sweat beading on his brow and upper lip. He was an idiot for wearing so many layers. 

Stiles pulled his luggage out of the taxi’s trunk, grunting with the effort. He was itching to get inside and drop his things off. To put his clothes away, to eat dinner at the kitchen table, sleep in his own bed. Everything normal he'd missed.

He couldn't wait to see his dad. His friends. 

He passed the taxi driver a handful of notes through the open window. The guy nodded his thanks before zooming away.

Stiles turned to face the old two-storey house he’d called home for the past twenty-three years.

The eaves were still rotting through, damp and covered in the mould that seemed to grow back as soon as it was removed. The grass of the lawn had yellowed in the heat of summer, patches of dirt spotting the areas close to the house, and the windows gleamed in the low afternoon sun. The paint was peeling off the walls. It was old, but it was everything he remembered.

In the driveway, the police cruiser was parked, clean and polished. He smiled when he saw it - his dad was home, waiting for Stiles to call him. Stiles had done this on purpose - he wanted to surprise his dad. 

He let go a shaky exhalation, trying to calm the jitters in his fingers. The pensive feeling sitting in his stomach had started on the plane, an anxiety he couldn't shake. He wasn't sure why - he was coming home, to a familiar and comforting place he knew like the back of his own hand.

He should be happy, right?

He took a second breath, and this one steadied him. He was happy. It was just nerves - all that time away, and it was finally done and he could come back to his life. It would take a little time to settle back into routine.

He reached down for his bags and started to make his way to the front door. He was back. For good. And there was no way in hell he would be going away again anytime soon.

* * *

Stiles set his bags down on the porch and pulled out his key, but hesitated. It felt weird to wait, like he was a stranger, but it also felt weird to just walk straight in.

He knocked instead, hoping that the weird feeling would go away soon. 

He heard the sound of footsteps, a pause as his dad unhooked the chain on the door, and then it opened wide. There was his dad, standing in the doorway, a little more haggard than he’d seemed the last time Stiles had seen him. He was unshaven, rough stubble shadowing his jaw, and he looked older, more lines around his eyes and mouth. Stress and worry showing the toll they were taking. But the moment he saw Stiles, the Sheriff's eyes lit up and he smiled. 

'Stiles,' he said, before reaching forward and gripping Stiles in the best hug he'd had in two years. 

The last time Stiles had seen his father had been in Germany, when Stiles had taken a turn for the worse and ended up in the ICU. His father had flown over immediately, expecting the worst, but Stiles had pulled through. They couldn't afford all of the flights and accommodation on top of the medical bills, so his dad hadn't been able to stay. That had been over seven months ago. A lot had changed since then.

Like the fact that Stiles had gotten better, and that they were back on the same continent - the same county, even. Stiles couldn't think of a place he'd rather be right then.

‘Hey, dad,’ he said, wrapping his arms around his father. He felt the familiar, burning sensation of tears, and pressed his face into his dad's shoulder, scrunching his eyes tight.

'Hey, son,' John Stilinski replied happily. Stiles laughed nervously, impossibly happy that he was here, breathing in his father's musk, feeling safe and happy for the first time in months.

After several moments, John stepped back, holding Stiles at arm’s length.

‘I thought I was going to pick you up from the airport myself?’ he said, frowning in concern. 'How did you get here?'

‘I got a taxi. I wanted to surprise you,’ Stiles said, shrugging.

'A taxi?! What if something had happened - '

'Dad. I'm fine.'

John frowned. ‘Well...you’re here, now. That's what matters.’

He looked Stiles up and down quickly, taking in the weight loss, the pinched cheeks, the pale skin. Stiles knew he looked like a shadow of his former self, with his short hair and baggy clothes. He was too thin, thinner than he'd been before. But he was better than he had been, and he knew his father could see that too. Better than it had been in the hospital.

‘You look...good, son,’ John said, nodding slightly.

Stiles grinned. ‘Better than you, old man.’

John rolled his eyes, stepping forward to pick up Stiles’ bag. ‘Come on, kid, let’s get your things upstairs.’

* * *

 Stiles breathed deeply when he crossed the threshold of the old house.

The smell of dust, of musk and sweat and something meaty cooking in the oven. The smell of smoke, and the underlying scent of whiskey. He took it all in, immersing himself in the familiar fragrances, letting himself remember what home smelled like. 

He climbed the stairs after his dad, almost leaping up them two at a time.

His dad had a dozen questions for him – was the flight okay? Were the meals nice? Was he okay? Had the hospital rung him yet? Did he have his medication? Was he in pain?

Stiles answered everything as he stared at the photographs on the walls, trying to remember everything he’d loved about this place, everything he’d hated. It was so good to be home.

When they reached his room, he was surprised by how small it seemed - smaller than he'd remembered. The bed was in the same place, untouched, the covers tucked in neatly. His chest of drawers was closed, the photo frames and pens and books on top tidied and dusted. The window was open, summer heat permeating the air of the room. It smelled warm and flowery. His posters were still pinned to the wall, his desk covered in textbooks from college.

It felt foreign, this room – a room for a boy full of theories and conspiracies and ideas and plans for the future and millions and millions of questions. That boy didn't really...exist anymore. Stiles had been slammed with reality, the prospect of no future, of a bleak existence in hospitals wards which would more than likely result in death. It had been difficult to distract himself when he had, you know, impending doom hanging over his head. 

He wasn't the old Stiles, idealistic, energetic. He still had his sharp tongue, sure, but he felt more conservative now. He felt like all his of past self had been scraped out and put away in his closet alongside the memorabilia he'd kept from middle school. He was someone new, a stranger in a stranger's room. 

His dad dropped the suitcase on the bed, and put his hands on his hips.

‘I kept everything the way you left it,’ he said. ‘I wanted to make sure it was the same for...when you came back.’

Stiles nodded, still standing in the doorway, his backpack in his hand. He didn’t ask what his father would have done with his room if he hadn’t come back - surprisingly, it wasn't a subject he wanted to talk about.

John stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, and then coughed, heading for the door. ‘Right, I’m…going to see how dinner is doing. I’ll give you a moment to settle in.’ As he passed Stiles, the Sheriff gently touched his son on the arm.

‘I’m glad you’re home, Stiles.’

‘Me too,’ Stiles replied, reaching across and squeezing his father's hand.

His dad smiled in return, and then stepped out, leaving Stiles alone.

He dropped his backpack on the floor and then sat on the bed, bouncing on the old springs, a small puff of dust lifting off the duvet cover and spiralling through the sun beams.

Stiles leant forward, his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands. His excitement and anxiety from earlier had dissipated into exhaustion. Don't get him wrong, he was happy as all hell to be home, but it was tiring. He got tired so easily. Everything old was new again, and Stiles knew it would be some time before he felt truly comfortable in his own bed. 

A photo frame on his bedside table caught his eye. He picked it up, hefting the sturdy frame in his hand, and wiped the dust away. He needed to have a word with his dad about spring cleaning.

The photo was of him and his friends at their high school graduation, five years ago – Scott, Allison, Lydia, Isaac, Malia. Danny had somehow been caught in the background, grinning with his parents.  Liam, caught in a headlock by Scott, facing another two years of high school, upset because his friends were leaving for college. Cora, who was smirking over at her brother. Boyd and Erica were missing - probably off making out somewhere.

And Derek...Derek stood grumpily between a younger, grinning Stiles and a smiling Lydia, frowning after being dragged unwillingly into the photo. Stiles couldn't help but smile, and he had to resist the urge to touch Derek's face.

He'd fucked up badly with that man, he knew. But he'd had his reasons.

 _God_ , he missed Derek, though.

All of them were together, wearing matching gowns and stupid hats, hopeful for the future, happy they'd been accepted into college. Following their paths.

 _That_ Stiles didn’t know what was coming for him. _That_ Stiles, in about two years, would get some of the worst news of his life.

* * *

College had been wonderful.

He'd been in a healthy, loving relationship with Derek, the kind he'd always dreamed of but never had until he'd left high school and finally had the balls to ask the idiot out. He was passing all his classes (mostly), was going to parties, was sleeping through classes, making new friends and praying for his student loans to disappear. He was happy, stupid, young. The way everyone was supposed to be after high school.

Stiles had gotten a part-time job at a music store, deciding he wanted to go on a trip to Europe. He'd saved and saved and saved, and finally had enough for himself. Derek had tried to go with him, but Stiles had refused the company. He was in a phase of "discovering himself" - whatever the fuck that meant. He still didn't think it had done him any good - he felt as lost as he always did.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, and it had started out that way. He'd gone to London, Amsterdam, Stockholm. Everywhere he could think of, picking up jobs here and there for a night or two, making friends, seeing tourist landmarks, getting drunk and generally having a fucking good time.

But then he'd gotten sick, right about when he made it to Berlin, and everything had gone to shit. He'd been bed-ridden for days, stuck in a hostel with no money and no way of getting home. He thought he'd had the flu. Aching all over, shaking, feverish. Debilitating pain in his shoulder and back.

He'd eventually visited the hospital in Berlin when the pain had gotten so bad he'd blacked out. He'd thought he was going to die.

Well, he hadn't been wrong.

They'd diagnosed him with cancer. Not the good kind, either. The shitty kind, where they gave you slim survival rates and "options for care" and looks of ugly sympathy. The kind that grew into malignant tumours and involved chemo and radiation therapy and surgery and then months and months of recovery. The kind that compromised your immune system so badly that you couldn't even get on a plane home to your family and friends. 

Stiles'd had to tell his dad over the phone. That had been the worst phone call he'd ever made. He didn't tell his friends, except Scott, because he told Scott everything and he needed somebody to talk to about it who wasn't his father.

Instead, he made the excuse that he'd found a job and a place to live in Germany and he'd dropped out of college. He told that to all the friends he cared about, and the ones he didn't care about he simply ignored or cut off. He didn't want them to worry, to wait for news, to live with something he had to deal with and they didn't. He didn't want people to know, because it wasn't their problem, and he'd deal with it. He didn't try to keep in touch, and neither did they once they found out what he'd done to Derek. It had been a while since he'd spoken to any of them - he doubted they knew he was coming home, except maybe Scott.

Scott had begged him not to behave like that, but Stiles had gone through with it anyway. He needed to, to feel less guilty.

The fewer people that knew, the better. He had his support from his family, and that was all he needed. That was all he'd ever needed. He'd tell them all, in due course.

It didn't matter anymore, anyway. He was fine, now.

The one person he didn't want to get involved was Derek. Derek had been...difficult. He hadn't wanted to say anything, but he knew he couldn't break things off with the guy without an explanation.

Instead, he used the worst excuse he could think of - he'd met someone else, and he was in love.

It had broken his heart, but...it was better than putting Derek through all this shit he hadn't asked for. He didn't want Derek to be chained to a sick person, when he could be enjoying the best years of his life. When Derek could be happy.

Cancer ruined everything.

_Fucking cancer._

Stiles set the photograph back on the bedside table, and sighed. The fact he would have to face Derek at one point or another was terrifying, to say the least.

He knew he wouldn’t be the same when he came back – not after all the hospitals, the scares, the pain, the weight loss, the needles and drugs, and, eventually, the recovery. He was still on heavy meds, and he had to make regular hospital visits to check the tumours hadn't come back and the medications weren't killing his heart and that he was still functioning okay. But it was so much better now that he was home.

Once cancer got it's tendrils in you, it didn't let go very easily.

He was bound to feel different, loaded down with extra baggage he hadn’t had before, blazing a trail of broken friendships and a destroyed relationship. Well done, Stiles. You've done it once again.

He glanced back at the photograph, his gaze inexplicably drawn to Derek's face. God, he had missed that man. More than anything else he'd left behind. He missed all the others too, their love, their camaraderie. The adventures they'd had, the parties they went to, the movie nights and the coffee and the road trips. He missed all of them.

Stiles heard his father call up the stairs, pulling him back, making him remember that he needed to actually behave like a real person again, with meals at a table and proper plates and utensils. Food that didn't taste like plastic. A real bed that wasn't surrounded by machines. No more nurses 24/7. 

It was time to start living again.

There was still time to make up for everything. To explain, to be forgiven, to be accepted back into their lives. They were friends, after all, despite the choices Stiles had made.

Stiles pushed himself up off the bed and headed for the door. He couldn't stop the small smile that spread across his face as he made his way down the stairs.

It was weird, yeah. It would take time to adjust.

But it was home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hopefully y'all liked it! This is something new I'm starting and hopefully it turns out ok. I won't promise any updates right now as I have exams coming up (yikes) but I hope to keep this going for a little while. Thanks for taking the time to read :)
> 
> Side note: I don't claim to be a medical expert, so I apologise if any information is wrong. Please remember this is fiction, these are fictional characters and I am trying my best.
> 
> Other side note: I'm going to go back to my other fic 'The Madness of Monsters' eventually, life has just been real busy and all that and I've had to adjust my priorities. I promise it will be updated soon. (Please don't hate me!)


	2. Number One Source of Caffeine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes to see old friends.

It was on one of the main streets of Beacon Hills that Stiles found himself early one morning. 

A cafe was nestled on the street corner; an old, red-brick, two-storey building, the windows and entrance propped open to provide ventilation on the hot day. Curled writing was painted on one of the windows, reading:  _Beacon Hills Café: your number one source of caffeine!_

A better slogan surely existed somewhere, but no one had taken the time to think of it. Stiles could only be disappointed, once again, by the lack of imagination the name possessed. 

Stiles stared up at the old building apprehensively. It looked busy, as it always was - the quality coffee lived up to the simple claim written on the window. Word got around a place like Beacon Hills when there was coffee involved. He could hear chatter coming through the open door, and watched as a steady stream of people walked in and out, holding coffee cups and briefcases and newspapers and looking like they had places to be and work to do. 

The place hadn't changed much in the past two years.

Stiles ran a hand over his short, spiky hair nervously. He missed his old hair. Currently, it was still growing, stuck in its awkward, juvenile stage, somewhere between a nice length and a buzzcut. It drew more attention to his face, which was thinner than it had ever been and made him look a little like a skeleton (a painful reminder of the past two years).  

He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to do this, even though he'd talked himself into going. _That_ had been easy - it was the fact he was now here, outside the cafe, that he was feeling queasy. How was he supposed to talk to them? What was he supposed to say? 

What if they brushed him off and never wanted to see him again? What if they wanted to know the truth?

What if he was working this all up for nothing, and they'd be fine with it? Before Stiles had cut them out of his life, they'd been close. A tightly-knit group, almost an extended family. The best group of people you could ask for. They were still close, according to Scott, despite the distances between them due to college and travel. When Stiles had spoken to people, they had said they'd missed them, but that had been some time ago. He imagined they thought very little of him now, and would think even less of him the moment he tried to walk back into his life. 

He was overthinking this, the same way he had overthought coming out. His friends understood then. Hopefully they would understand now.

He had to tell himself that or he would never be happy.

He took a deep breath to steady himself. It was time to suck it up and just do it. Whatever happened, happened, and Stiles would just have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

* * *

It was the smell of rich coffee combined with sweat and muffins and cooking that hit him first. The air conditioning was blasting, providing blissful relief from the heat. Almost every table was full, and the chatter much louder in here when combined with sounds from the kitchen and from the coffee machines behind the counter. 

This was the place Stiles and his friends had spent hours studying, catching up, hanging out during their high school years. This was where Stiles has first noticed Derek behind the counter in their senior year, a second-year college student with the beginnings of a beard. This is where Stiles has asked him out on their first date. This was where half his friends had worked throughout high school, and into college, gratefully accepting the decent pay they received. Stiles tried it for a while too, but he lacked the people skills and the footwork needed to carry hot cups of liquid without spilling them on himself and others. (Instead, he'd found a job at the music store downtown, where he'd met Erica and her boyfriend Boyd).

It was almost as good to come back here as it was to be back home. 

Stiles ducked in through the doorway, sneaking to the back of the queue. He quickly checked to see who was behind the counter today, and grinned widely when he saw a familiar red-headed woman taking orders at the counter.

Lydia had her long, red hair pulled back into a bun, her cheeks flushed with the heat of the cafe. Strands of hair hung over her face and stuck to her neck with sweat. She wore an ugly brown apron over her clothes and was dealing with a long line of customers, who were after coffee, despite the heat. There was another barista manning the coffee machine, desperately trying to make the orders as quickly as they came through.

Stiles hadn't spoken to Lydia in months. He knew she wasn't happy with him - there had been several phone calls which had involved an angry Lydia telling him off for breaking Derek's heart and that he was an asshole for doing what he had done, and she wanted to know _why?_  Stiles had never given her a proper explanation, but he hadn't said anything further and he hadn't denied cheating on Derek. After a while Stiles had stopped answering, and Lydia eventually stopped calling. Stiles knew from Scott that she was mad, but not completely unforgiving. 

Lydia was probably smart enough to see through the lie, but in her mind Stiles had simply cheated on Derek and then never returned her calls. He was just a dick. Stiles suspected Lydia would forgive him now if he spoke to her, and maybe even if he told her the truth, but then there would be other explanations he would need to give. 

He had to be crazy to think he could just show up like this without explaining anything. What was he going to do when it got too hard to hide the lies?

He was moving up in the line, getting closer and closer to the counter, and suddenly he realised he had no idea what he was going to say. 

_Hey Lydia, I'm back from Germany without telling you. Sorry I up-and-bailed on you two years ago, but that was just cause I had cancer and nearly died and never told you. Also I lied about the new boyfriend. But I'm all good now. How've you been?_

Yeah. Good plan, Stiles.

It wasn't as though it was a huge deal at this point. Perhaps he could live out this lie - everyone believed it anyway. Except Scott. And his dad. And Mrs McCall. And he couldn't bear to leave Derek the way he had. Derek deserved an apology at least. Maybe even the truth. People had done worse things, and Derek had probably moved on by now. It wasn't too late to salvage the friendships he'd had and try to bring some normality back to his life.

And if it all went to shit, he'd buy a cat and move to Florida and never speak to anyone ever again. 

It was too late to back out now, anyway. Stiles was suddenly at the front of the queue, stuttering out an order and facing a bored-looking Lydia Martin.

She didn't even look up, instead putting on a smile and waiting with her hand hovering over the register's screen. 

‘Welcome to Beacon Hills Café. What can I get for you?’

Stiles was speechless. His palms were clammy, his throat was constricting. He had to say something.

'U-uhh...h-hey, Lydia.'

Lydia’s head jerked up so fast Stiles was half-convinced she’d given herself whiplash. She stared at Stiles, her green eyes wide with shock. He couldn't tell if it was from his sudden appearance before her or because of how he looked.

Stiles gestured weakly, spreading his arms to the side in a gesture of weak surprise. 'Hi.'

The squeal that followed caused everyone in the cafe to pause and look for the source.

_‘Stiles?!’_

* * *

Stiles had to wait until Lydia could go on break before he could talk to her properly. She'd stared for about five seconds before the customer standing in line behind Stiles had made a noise of annoyance and disapproval. Lydia had quickly told Stiles to wait for her in the break room - somewhere Stiles had spent a lot of time waiting for his friends to finish their shifts. She'd thrown him an unreadable glance before turning to her next customer, stumbling over her greeting. 

Stiles did what she'd asked and sat down at the table in the break room to wait. 

He could tell she was surprised to see him (obviously) but he couldn't tell if she was angry, annoyed or happy. Perhaps a combination of all three. Even so, he was still apprehensive. What if she was going to tell him she never wanted to see him again?

The waiting was killing him. 

It was about ten minutes later when the door to the break room swung open and Lydia stepped through, brushing her hair back from her face. It was quieter back here, soundproofing in the walls protecting it from the noise outside. 

Lydia shut the door and leant back against it, sighing heavily, before looking at Stiles. 

'You're back,' she said flatly. 

'I am.'

They stared at each other for a moment, Lydia's expression blank, Stiles anxiously fiddling with the hem of his shirt, when a wide grin spread across Lydia's face. 

Without warning, she rushed forward and flung herself at Stiles, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, nearly strangling him. 

'I can't believe it! You didn't tell me you were coming back!' she cried, squeezing Stiles tightly. 

He laughed, hugging her back. 'Yeah, I just...thought it was time, you know?'

Lydia stepped back, straightening her apron. 'When did you get here?'

'Only a couple of days ago. Been getting over the jet lag and unpacking, so I didn't have a chance to swing by until today.'

Lydia nodded, and then suddenly swung her hand back and smacked Stiles on the back of the head. 

'Ow! What the hell?'

'That's for not answering my phone calls, you jackass!' she said angrily. 

Stiles opened his mouth to protest when Lydia smacked him again. 

'And _that's_ for doing what you did to Derek.'

Stiles rubbed the back of his head indignantly, pouting. 'I know...I'm an asshole. I deserve that.'

 _This_ was the reaction Stiles had been expecting. 

She started pacing back and forth, arms waving animatedly. ‘You wanna know how I've been? It’s been  _months_  with no contact – not even a damn _email_  – and then you just _turn_ up, and you expect me to welcome you back with open arms?'

'Well...technically you  _did_ just welcome me back with open arms...'

She dismissed him with a wave of her arm. 'That is  _not_ the point! You should have called! Or texted. Something! The last time I heard from you was last year and you were hooking up with some guy in Berlin after cheating on Derek! Did you not think I would be pissed off? Derek was good for you and then you did the worst thing you could possibly do!'

Stiles hung his head. 'I'm sorry I didn't call you.'

'Oh, good! You're sorry. Fine. That makes it all okay, does it? Not to mention the fact that I was worried about you! We used to talk all the time, Stiles, and then suddenly you just cut me out of your life without a word!' Lydia's voice was growing louder with each word.

'Why are you so angry with me?'

'Because you did something stupid, and it annoys me!'

'I know. I fucked up-'

'Did your friends mean nothing to you? Did Derek?'

The question hurt. Stiles looked up at her, and saw she was standing above him, arms crossed over her chest, glaring down at him angrily. He realised then he hadn't really thought of it from his friend's perspective - how they might feel if their friend had simply cut them off after telling them he'd cheated on his boyfriend (who was _also_ their friend) and was now living in Europe. How they might feel if they didn't hear from that friend for years and then he turned up again suddenly looking for a way back into their lives.

He knew that he didn't deserve them back in his life again, but it was more than that.

He needed them. He'd had nothing but doctors and nurses for the last two years to keep him company, and he was sick of being so close to death that he felt like he was only existing. Only surviving.

He needed to live again. And he could do that by gaining his friends back, because they made him feel real. They made him happy. They were a part of his old life, and they could be a part of the new, if only he could make it up to them. 

He had to make them see that. Starting with Lydia. 

'Lydia...' Stiles started. 'It's complicated.'

She scoffed, but Stiles held up a hand, stopping her from interrupting. 'I know, that's not the answer you want to hear. But I've been through a lot the last couple of years, and not all of it was good. So I'm sorry, but that is all I can tell you right now. I just...I wanted to tell you was I back home, and I was hoping we could talk. About everything. About what I've missed.'

Stiles looked up and saw that Lydia's face had softened a little. She was watching him closely, hearing the genuine emotions in his voice, and he knew that she was realising that everything wasn't as it seemed. 

'Look, I know I screwed up. I know I did a shitty thing to you guys, but you have to believe me when I say that you mean the world to me. I've missed you, and I'm sorry. I'd like to be friends again.' He smiled gently. 'If you'll have me.'

Lydia seemed to struggle internally for a moment, her jaw clenching tightly as she thought it over, but then she relaxed, letting go a frustrated sigh.

'Fine. But you're not getting off the hook that easy. I expect you to try your hardest to make it up to me. And everyone else.'

Stiles grinned at her. 'Thanks, Lydia.'

She sat down at the table beside him with a huff, but smiled back. He was glad that she had accepted him back - now all he had to do was get her to forgive him. 

'How is everybody?' Stiles asked. 

Lydia sighed. 'Everybody? Well, Allison and I are living together; Scott's working two jobs to get through veterinary school and has a new girlfriend; Isaac is living with Cora and Erica and Boyd - that house is a mess, by the way - Malia is studying abroad right now - I _think_ she's in Peru at the moment, but I haven't heard from her in a week, so who knows...'

Stiles edged forward in his seat. 'How's Derek?' he asked. 

Lydia rolled her eyes. 'Of course you want to know about the ex-boyfriend. I can't imagine why, seeing as _you_ broke up with him. Over another guy, I might add, who you lived with in Germany for two years without calling-'

' _Lydia._ How is he?'

Lydia paused, and then said carefully. 'He's good, Stiles. He's happy.'

Stiles relaxed a little. 'Is he...is he with anyone?'

Lydia turned to face him. 'Stiles you need to understand. You broke his heart. I don't think you have any right coming back into his life this way, without a word of warning, and after what you did-'

Stiles' heart sank. 'Okay. Thats...okay.' Truth be told, he wasn't sure he wanted to know, anyway.

Stiles ran a hand through his hair again. He didn't miss Lydia's glance upwards, her eyes trailing over his face. She was taking him in properly, taking in the thinness, the short hair, the sallowness of his cheeks. Maybe she would figure it out - she was smart, after all, smarter than he was. But maybe she wouldn't say anything and wait for him to explain. 

It was unlikely he would. 

'Stiles...it's going to take time for things to get back to the way they were. Everyone else will probably get over it, but...give Derek a warning first before you go barging back into his life. Things have changed.'

Stiles nodded reluctantly. 'You're right. Of course, you're right.' He met her gaze once more, saw that there was something in her eyes, besides irritation and happiness and annoyance. Sympathy. She felt sorry for him. 

God, if she only knew. 

'As for the rest of us...' Lydia said. 'Try the apology first next time.'

He laughed. 'Thanks, Lydia.'

She smiled back. 'Anytime.'

'It's good to see you again.'

'It's good to see you, too, Stiles.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I'm sorry it's been so long (multiple reasons for delay, don't even ask). But it's all okay now! And hopefully I can continue to update a bit more, however I'm not going to make any promises. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! I hope it's ok, and I have ideas for where I want it to go. Sorry if this chapter isn't very good, I just needed to get it out so I can work on future chapters.


	3. Reimbursements and Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles tries to make amends, but it doesn't go completely to plan.

The next few days were a whirlwind of apologies.

Stiles felt like he was spending half his time saying 'sorry' to people, but for the most part, it was worth it. His friends were letting him back into their lives, and that was more than he could have asked for. 

Allison was relatively easy to win over - she had always been considerate, and listened to Stiles' apology before telling him she was happy he was back, and that she hoped he would make it up to them. She didn't say anything about Derek, but Stiles could tell she disapproved. Not that she would approve. No one would. No one  _should._

He'd managed to get a quick tour of Allison and Lydia's shared apartment before being pushed out by Lydia, instructed to leave them alone. He didn't even get the chance to ask why the apartment only had one bedroom (but he could put two and two together) before the door was shut in his face.

It was as though, after the cafe, Lydia was determined to send him on a tour of redemption around Beacon Hills, and she wouldn't be happy with him until he was done.

* * *

 

He'd nearly been crushed to death in a bear hug from Scott when he went to visit him at the veterinary clinic.

Scott looked good - he'd filled out somewhat since the last time Stiles had seen him, appearing more muscular in the shoulders and chest. He looked happy, too - both to see Stiles, and in general. 

Scott's demeanour changed, somewhat, when he asked Stiles how he was. The two of them hadn't had much time to talk in the past week or so, what with Stiles flying back to America and getting settled in back home, and Scott was worried for his best friend.

Scott was the one person Stiles had told everything - the one person he'd relied on besides his dad. Scott had been there for him, every step of the way, and was loyal to a fault. He knew that Stiles was torn up about Derek, about lying to their friends. And Stiles knew Scott hated being alone in knowing the truth. But he respected Stiles and Stiles' choices, and they'd become closer because of it. 

Stiles didn't know where he would be without his best friend.

Probably not where he was.

Stiles had barely had a chance to tell Scott anything besides "I'm doing okay" when a girl entered the clinic, flustered and red from the midday sun. Scott grinned widely at her and introduced her as Kira, his new girlfriend. It was a surprise, to be sure, but Stiles quickly recovered. Of course - it explained why Scott was so happy, why he couldn't stop himself from smiling. He liked a girl.

Kira babbled her way through their introduction, quickly telling Stiles she had moved to Beacon Hills with her parents, worked at the clinic as well (which is where she'd met Scott), and that she had heard a lot about Stiles, before she blushed profusely and disappeared through a door to begin her shift. 

Scott was gazing absentmindedly at the door Kira had disappeared through. Stiles had to elbow him in the ribs to get his attention.

'Hey,' he muttered. 'How come you didn't tell me about the new girlfriend?'

Scott blushed furiously. 'It's really new, man, and we hadn't told _anyone_ until last week, and you had so much going on...' he trailed off, staring at his shoes.

Stiles just laughed and clapped him on the back. 'I'm happy for you, man. She seems great.'

Scott nodded. 'She does, doesn't she?'

* * *

 

It was impossible to see Malia, of course, considering that she was off trekking across a mountain range or building a church in the middle of nowhere or something. Stiles couldn't imagine her hiking through a forest somewhere, but Malia had never been one to stay indoors. She preferred nature, and perhaps this was what she was trying to do while off on her own in the world.

In any case, she was inaccessible for random, heartfelt, perhaps a little pathetic apologies, so he would just have to wait until she got back from wherever she was. Even then, he wasn't sure how she would take it - she was as blunt as a blunt nail, so he suspected she would tell him how she felt outright and he would have to deal with it.

Liam had just started college, and wouldn't be seeing Stiles for a long while. He probably didn't even know Stiles had done anything at all - the kid had new friends his own age, people he was closer too. While Liam had looked up to Scott, he had never really connected to anyone else on more than a friendly level. He didn't need to be hanging out with Stiles' friends anymore.

Isaac wasn't exactly at the top of Stiles' apology list - they'd never been particularly fond of one another, though they'd had their moments in between bickering. Isaac wouldn't care very much about anything Stiles had to say anyway, so Stiles wasn't exactly jumping out of his seat to turn up at his doorstep and give him a heartfelt apology about their friendship. But, the guy did live with Erica and Boyd, and he was friends with Derek, so there was a good chance Stiles would have to see him at some point. It just wouldn't have to be soon.

Cora...was complicated. He liked her, but he didn't really want to approach her just yet. She was too close to Derek. Too close to the one thing he was trying to avoid at the moment until he could sort out his other problems.

Instead, Stiles decided to head to the music store he used to work at, in the hopes of finding Erica and Boyd.

* * *

While he had never been very close to Boyd, he and Erica shared a good relationship - one which mostly involved her making fun of him, and he struggling to come up with a witty response (a rare position for Stiles, and one which had aggravated him greatly). 

When Stiles entered the familiar little music store in the city, he was happy to see Erica was sitting behind the counter, sorting through stacks of new CDs. There was loud rock music playing over the store speakers, the vocals some unidentifiable language - possibly German?

International rock was something Erica was very into - French punk, in particular, was one of her favourite genres. He knew that because he had spent hours listening to different French bands, and he liked to boast that he was fluent because of her. Even though it was total bullshit.

'Reyes!' he called over the music, but it fell upon deaf ears. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted her name again, louder. She looked up at the sound of her name and grinned when she saw him.

Erica had gotten a few new piercings while he had been away - a second one in her eyebrow, another in her nose. The piercings in her ears were hidden under her mass of curly, blonde hair which hung to her waist. A new tattoo curled up her arm and disappeared beneath her sleeveless shirt.

She mouthed something unintelligible and he frowned, tapping his ear. She rolled her eyes, but reached for her phone, which was plugged into the stereo, and turned down the music.

'Stilinski!' she said, flashing him a grin. 'What brings you back to Beacon Hills?'

'Oh, I just missed the town, you know. Came back to sightsee.'

She laughed. 'What a sad life you lead if you chose to come back here.'

Stiles approached the counter, his hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets. It was still warm outside, but he had taken to wearing a beanie despite the heat. It made his face look a little fuller, and it hid his hair, which made him feel more normal. 

'So...where have you been, Stilinski?' Erica said, taking her seat again.

'Europe.'

'I know you said you were taking time off, but two years? Bit of a trip, was it?' She said it politely, but he could hear the judgemental undertone in her voice.

Stiles took a deep breath. 'I know. I, um...I got caught up in Germany. Ended up living there for a while.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah.'

'Well...I heard you were staying with some nice young man out in Germany. Got a house together and everything.'

'I...I was-'

'I also heard you left Derek for him, in fact, like the douchebag you truly are.'

Stiles glanced up and saw Erica was watching him closely.

'Who told you that?' he asked.

Erica shrugged. 'Cora.'

'Of course she did,' he muttered bitterly.

'In her words, you are a..."useless piece of trash"?'

Stiles sighed. 'She'd be...right. I did meet...someone else. I cheated.'

She gasped melodramatically. 'You  _don't_ say?'

'I'm sorry, okay? I screwed up. I made a mistake, and I handled it badly-'

'Stiles? It's okay. I'm just fucking with you.'

'What?'

She snorted. 'I mean, I wish you'd been a little more considerate about Derek's feelings and everything, and about us, but you know. It's your life. I will say, though, we had to deal with a lot of heavy emotional stuff, and I don't do that kind of shit. So I'm blaming you for that.'

He could tell she was being sincere - she never used his first name. He was grateful - he'd been worried she wouldn't forgive him at all, and instead torture him with guilt. Instead, he was being given what felt like a free pass.

Stiles let out a breath, relaxing himself. 'Thanks, Erica.'

She smiled gently, a rare, soft smile she often reserved only for Boyd or, sometimes, Isaac. After a moment,she looked away and reached for the piles of CDs sitting on her desk. 

'So Stilinski...you gonna stand there or you gonna help me sort through these?' she said, scribbling something down on a form as she resumed her task. Stiles scrambled forwards and allowed her to hand him one CD after another, building up a selective pile in his hands. 

'So,' he asked, wanting to breach the awkward space between them and move on from talking about him. 'How have you been? How's Boyd?'

'I'm pretty good, actually,' she replied. 'Boyd too. We're living with Isaac and Cora, which has been...interesting. They're not exactly the best house mates - always so _angry_ \- but they're okay. It's just until they finish college. Boyd and I are looking for a place of our own for when that happens.'

'Sounds like fun.'

Erica nodded. 'It is, if I'm being honest. We have good times, and Isaac is a great cook.'

Stiles snorted. 'I'm almost jealous.'

'Also...I bought the shop,' she added. 

Stiles raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'You own this place?' he said, looking around the store.

She rolled her eyes at him. 'Don't look so surprised, Stilinski. It was only a matter of time before the boss gave up and wanted to move on. Besides, I like it here. I get peace and quiet.'

'Peace and quiet punctured by loud rock and roll.'

'You mean good music.' 

Stiles chuckled. 'How's Boyd taking it?'

'Boyd's been really helpful, actually, with running the place. Despite the fact that I'm technically his boss now.'

'I bet he loves that.'

Erica smirked. 'You have no idea, buddy.' She waggled her eyebrows suggestively at him, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste. 

'Ew.'

'Shut up, Stilinski.'

Erica stood to pick up another box of CDs from the ground and opened it, pulling out the packaging and setting the CDs inside in piles on the table. She paused, watching Stiles try to keep the CDs in his arms balanced.

'You know, we have a couple of new staff, but I could probably find a couple of shifts for you if you wanted to come back,' she said. 

Stiles raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'Oh! No, it's okay Erica. I'm not looking for work at the moment.'

'You sure?' she said, surprised. 'Most people our age would kill for a job, and I'm offering one without an interview.'

'I'm sure. Thanks, though. If you're ever struggling I can lend a hand, but I'm not working right now.'

'Well...okay, then.'

There was a comfortable silence between them while Erica sorted through the last of the CDs, humming along to the music playing in the overhead speakers. She placed one last disc on the pile in Stiles' arms, and then pressed her palms together, mimicking prayer.

'Would you mind taking those to the store room?' she asked. 'I've got so much to do today, I'd be ever so grateful. You just need to file them under the genre "folk and acoustic".'

'Grateful, my ass,' he muttered, hefting the stack carefully. 'I'm only doing this because I feel guilty, you know.'

'Please and thank you, Stilinski.'

Stiles rolled his eyes, but turned to weave his way through the stands of CDs and vinyl records, taking care not to bump any of the displays. He registered the new names on the racks, taking in the slight changes Erica had put into place since she had taken over the business. There was more variety of music, ranging from hip-hop to jazz to colonial groove, from musical to Norwegian rap to French electronica, to other genres Stiles hadn't even heard of before.

Some new displays were up further back - dotted with small gifts and accessories for music made out of recycled materials, and a bunch of fliers with information about bands performing locally. Stiles smiled - Erica had always wanted to expand the store so it included local merchandise and supported businesses. He was happy she was successfully doing what she loved.

He managed to open the door to the store room by walking through backwards, his hands currently busy trying to hold about a hundred CDs without dropping any - an impressive feat for someone with his coordination.

The store room was relatively small, filled with floor to ceiling shelves, and a work table in the centre of the room. It was a little cluttered, but it was well ordered and even alphabetised. Another door led through to the offices and the staff break area. 

Stiles almost immediately found the genre he was looking for and began meticulously stacking the CDs. He hummed while he worked, singing along with the music Erica was playing out in the shop. He liked to think he was making sense, but he probably sounded stupid.

It felt good to be back here, too, doing a task he had done a million times before. Routine was always something he had enjoyed - repetition made him feel safe, allowed him to think in his head or even not think at all. It made him relax, gave him rhythm. He always felt organised when he was following a routine.

Today, he wished his brain would shut up, because he couldn't stop himself from thinking about Derek. He missed that man - his eyes. His smell. The way Derek would kiss his forehead before they went to sleep. The way it felt to be held by him.

He wanted to talk to Derek. He wanted to hear Derek's voice again. The last time they had spoken it had been so Stiles could tell him he had cheated on him.

How could he go back to that man and tell him it was all a lie, a cover, for something much, much worse?

_Hey Derek, I know I told you I was cheating on you but in reality the new boyfriend was actually code for cancer, and I could have died. But I didn't, so do you wanna get back together even though you've moved on and probably hate me now?_

He wanted to be selfish and ruinous and turn up outside Derek's house and tell him everything he had wanted to say over the last two years, including the truth. But he knew doing so would fuck everything up even more and maybe even cut Derek out of his life for good. He couldn't lose the man forever - the benefit did not outweigh the cost.

_Nothing good comes of lying. That is the lesson I should be taking from this. But I'm still going to lie, aren't I?_

Stiles heard a door open behind him and a voice call out, making him jump.

'Hey, Erica, is that you? I finished with the...'

The voice trailed off, and Stiles turned, only to find himself standing across from someone he had hoped he would avoid seeing today.

_Shit._

Cora.

* * *

'What the fuck are you doing here?'

Cora's face immediately turned stormy, her eyebrows narrowing into a sharp V, her voice rising into a shout. She had a cup in her hand and a book in the other. Glasses were perched on top of her head. She was short and angry and looked so much like her brother it hurt.

Stiles hadn't expected her to be here - perhaps it made sense she would be, since she lived with Erica and Boyd. They must have offered her a job.

He wasn't prepared for this, for her - as far as Cora knew, Stiles had cheated on her brother. She wasn't happy with him, to say the least.

He didn't know what to say to her. 'I didn't think you'd be-'

She cut him off before he could say more. 'I don't want to hear it.'

She moved forward, resting her book slowly on the table with a soft thump. 'You're an asshole. We have established this. Now go away, and don't come back.'

She stepped towards him quickly, taking long strides for her short legs. Stiles lurched backwards, uncertain if she was going to try to take swing at him. He wouldn't put it past her.

'Are you listening to me?' she shouted. 'Get the fuck out!'

He jumped at her voice and scrambled into action, heading for the door. As he was moving, her arm holding the cup swung back and the next thing he knew she was hurling the cup at him, aiming straight for his chest. 

It collided with him square in the chest. The contents - blue slushy - spilled outward over Stiles shirt, dripping down beneath his shirt and making him shiver. The cup fell to the ground, clumps of blue ice spilling out and melting on the warm floor.

He stood with his mouth open for a moment, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Cora was behaving like a three year old.

The one thing his brain focused on was the stupidest - was he in an episode of _Glee?_

Stiles lifted his gaze and saw her eyes flash with her small victory. _Petty._

'You deserve much more than that,' she said coldly. 

Stiles closed his eyes briefly at her words, and when he opened them she was still there, waiting for him.

'I know,' he said, and then he turned away, pieces of blue slushy flying.

She could take that as she wanted to - he wasn't going to stay and explain. She could come to him next time.

He hurried back through the shop.The ice was sticking to his clothes and his skin, sliding down his stomach and soaking into the top of his pants.

He needed to get out of here.

He'd forgotten that Erica was out at the front desk. Boyd had appeared from somewhere, and was sitting behind the counter beside his girlfriend, whispering quietly with her. Erica grinned when she saw Stiles.

'Hey, Stilinski, I heard shouting...why are you covered-is that slushy?' 

Stiles paused, his cheeks reddening. He could feel bits of ice sneaking into his underwear. 'I, uh...I gotta go. I'll-I'll see you around, okay?' he muttered, averting his gaze.

'Alright...' Erica sounded concerned. 'You okay?'

'Yeah, I, uh...' Stiles didn't finish his sentence, looking back across the store. He spotted Cora standing in the entrance to the store room, her arms folded across her chest. Erica followed his gaze and made a small sound of understanding.

'Stiles, I forgot she was here-'

'I'll see you,' Stiles mumbled, before fleeing for the door.

* * *

 

Somehow, he managed to get out of there without knocking anything over, bursting out onto the street, flustered and unable to focus. He half ran to his jeep, fumbling for his keys. His fingers were sticky with blue sugar. He nearly dropped his keys about three times before he managed to unlock his car and climb in.

He should have realised this would happen - he should have thought things through before he just went ahead and tried to fix things. Impulsiveness was stupid. He thought he could fix things by apologising to everyone, and that would be the last of it?

What a joke.

The thing about Cora was that she was very protective of Derek - overly protective, some might say. Both of the Hales had a hard time letting people into their lives, but they'd gotten better at it since they'd graduated high school and Derek had started dating Stiles.

It was understandable - they only had each other, had done since they were young, after most of their family had died in a horrible fire years ago. It was only the two of them, if you didn't count Derek's creepy uncle Peter. It made sense that they were fiercely defensive of one another.

If you hurt one Hale, you could be certain the rest of them would come after you.

Like it or not, truth or lie, Stiles had been the one to hurt a Hale, and it would be impossible to persuade either of them to listen to him or let him apologise. They were both as stubborn as a mule.

Stiles would go back into that shop if he had the guts, and he would try to talk Cora down, even though it would most likely get abusive and Stiles would suffer because of it. He couldn't face her. He couldn't hear whatever else she wanted to say, because it would break him. And fighting with her now would ruin any chance Stiles had of ever seeing Derek again. Perhaps that was already ruined because of today.

It would probably end with her throwing another drink at him, anyway. Maybe even a sandwich.

He sank into his seat with a heavy sigh, glancing up into the rearview mirror. The blue slushy had melted quickly in the heat, leaving behind blue dye stains on his shirt and skin. It would probably leak onto his seat. Great.

He begrudgingly started his car, pulling away from the curb and heading towards home. There was nothing more for him to do today, and he was tired. 

Unwelcome, a question sprang into his mind and wouldn't go away, buzzing like a fly in his ear. No matter what he did, he couldn't ignore it.

What was he going to do about Derek?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm hoping this has gone over okay (very long chapter to make up for my lack of updates). 
> 
> I tried to skip through as many apologies as I could, as I want the focus of this story to be on other things. I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while - I'm a uni student, and the study has picked up quite a bit lately, and I am busy with life and all that, and sometimes fic writing has to be lowered on my list of priorities. I can't promise frequent updates right now, but I will try and load up a chapter every few weeks if I can.
> 
> I'm not entirely satisfied with how this chapter turned out, but hopefully the next one will be better and we will see more of Stiles and Derek's relationship past. I hope to update as soon as I can. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Medication Meditation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles visits the hospital for the first time being back home.

Stiles had never liked hospitals. They reminded him of the worst years of his life.

When his mother had been sick, he'd been to Beacon Hills Memorial countless times, and every time he'd left he felt a little sadder, a little more broken. They were the worst kinds of memories to have from childhood.

He knew the halls of BHM like he knew the back of his hand. Better, even. That wasn't necessarily something to be proud of.

Hospitals were reminders of death. They were reminders of the fragility of humanity. They were a reminder of his mother, of the darkest parts of her.

He tried not to think too deeply about it. But, on occasion, it got to him.

He hated the white walls. He hated the smell of cleaning products, of chemicals and sheets and urine and plastic food. He hated the quiet-that-wasn't-quiet. He hated how you could hear the other patients breathing and coughing at night, the taste of fear in the air. 

Hospitals were supposed to make you well, but all they seemed to do was suck the life out of you.

He'd been on the other side when he'd gotten sick. He'd come to know how to deal with the repetition - showering, medications, treatment, rest. Rinse, wash, repeat.

But that hadn't been here. That hadn't been with the added memories of his mother.

It was something like seven in the morning, and Stiles was going in for his first appointment since coming home.

* * *

What was supposed to be a routine checkup ended being an hour-long stay.

He had to sit in a freezing office opposite an old man with a grey moustache who spoke in the most monotone voice you could imagine. His new doctor - the walrus. He had as much personality as a banana.

He got told all the same stuff he already knew - their plan of care, the appointments he would need to make, the prescription renewals, the purpose of their assessment, the reason he needed to come in regularly. He knew it was routine, he knew it was policy, but it was boring.

Somehow, he managed to get through it without breaking. Mostly by biting his tongue to prevent him from snapping angrily at his doctor. How a walrus got a medical degree, he would never know.

Eventually, the doctor let him leave, handing him over to the nurse's station. He was told to wait - a nurse would be with him shortly for his assessment.

He sat down on one of the plastic chairs, leaning back against the wall. He was tired of this; he had been for two years already.

Cancer didn't just go away. There was always a chance it would come back. It was likely he would have to do this for a long time; perhaps for the rest of his life. 

They'd told him five years cancer-free would be the moment he would be completely out of the woods. And then, yearly check-ups, just in case. For now, he had to live with the constant fear that he would get sick again. 

Seemed like the rarest, most vicious cancers had the longest lasting effect on people. Kept tendrils in victims. It helped he was young, but even then, it had been a close call. He was still at risk of relapse. 

And don't even get him started on the meds.

Lydia had sent him a text.

L: _What_ _are you doing tonight?_

He prayed she wasn't planning a party as he texted back. He was not up for that. 

_Not much. Why?_

L: _We're going out to the Silver Bullet. Want to come?_

What was that - a club? Stiles had never heard the name before.

_I'll see._

L: _Oh, come on. Think of it as a welcome back._

L: _Are_ _you home? I'm coming over._

He hesitated before he replied.  _I'm out at the moment._

L:  _Okay, I'll come meet you. Where are you?_

L:  _Stiles?_

She tried to call him - trust Lydia to be impatient with him. He let it ring in his hand before texting back.

_Don't worry. I'll see you later._

L:  _So you'll come out tonight?_

He didn't get a chance to respond when someone touched his arm.

'Stiles? I'm here to take you to get some tests done.'

Melissa McCall still looked the same - youthful, warm, kind. She smiled gently at him, and he didn't know what to do back except tuck his phone away, stand up and follow her down the corridor, his face blank.

They walked side by side, Melissa holding a thick binder. Stiles swallowed, not sure if he should talk to her about this or not. It seemed stupid to try to hide anything from a health professional.

'Um...' he said. His tongue felt like it was sticking in his throat.

'Scott told me what's going on,' she said quickly. 'It's okay, Stiles. I won't tell anyone.' She smiled. 'Confidentiality is part of the job.'

They came to a stop outside another, empty room. Melissa gestured at the door. 'After you.'

Stiles entered and took a seat on the bed inside. He couldn't wait to leave the cramped room and smell the fresh air of the outside world again. He was grateful that it was an option for him.

Melissa hung the binder on the end of the bed and stood to one side, watching him.

'Are you my nurse for today?' he asked hesitantly. He wasn't sure how he felt about her assessing him like this.

She shook her head. 'Sorry, but, I'm afraid I can't be. It's against the rules, technically - you're my son's best friend. I know you. Hospital regulations and all that.' She smiled again. 'I couldn't afford to show favouritism with my patients, now, could I?'

Stiles smiled. 'Didn't realise I was a favourite.'

There was a pause before Melissa asked seriously, 'How are you feeling, Stiles?' Her concern was written all over her face, but it didn't feel like pity. Merely...understanding. 

He hung his head, his fingers tightening against the mattress. Melissa was, perhaps, the only person he could speak to honestly without her telling anyone, but he wasn't sure he knew how to do that properly anymore.

'I'm managing. It's been difficult, coming home. I don't feel very...real.' He kept hesitating, judging her response, waiting for her to frown or write something down. She didn't. She only waited for him to continue. 'My dad is worried about me, and the medical fees...and I screwed up a lot of relationships back here. I made a lot of mistakes.'

Instead, Melissa merely nodded. 'It can be difficult, for survivors, to come back to normal routine. Some of them find it difficult, given the experience they've had.'

He snorted. 'You can say that again.'

'If you ever need somebody to talk to, Stiles, I'm here.'

The door opened abruptly, and in came another nurse, pulling a silver metal tray with her. She introduced herself as Annie - she was young, and cheerful, and Stiles was grateful. It was always nice to meet a good nurse.

'I'll leave you to it.' Melissa said. She gave Stiles one last look before leaving the room, closing the door gently behind her.

 

* * *

It felt like forever before he could leave. He was told that today would be the longest assessment - the hospital needed to develop a baseline for his care, so that they could ensure he was improving. It made sense, sure, but it was a pain in the ass.

When he left the hospital, the heat hit him almost painfully, radiating from all directions. 

He took out his phone as he headed back to his car - one call from his father, a text from Scott and about fourteen messages from Lydia. All of them were about tonight. 

He called her. It rang three times before she picked up.

There was a lot of background noise - she must have been driving. 'Stiles! Finally.' He could almost hear the eye roll in her voice.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

'I'm out, uh...grocery shopping,' he said. 'What did you want?'

'Tonight - Alison and I are going to the Silver Bullet. I'm going to try and convince Scott to bring Kira, and if I can get Erica and Boyd they'll bring Isaac and Cora. We'll have a good group. The old gang back together.'

Stiles found his parking spot and was about to get in his car when he heard Cora's name. He swallowed nervously. 

'Lydia, I don't think I should-'

'Erica told me about your little spat with Cora. Honestly, I should have seen it coming - the way she is and what you did were never going to be a good combination.'

'Thanks for that.'

'Sorry.' She paused. 'Anyway - you should still come out. It's unlikely Cora will come anyway; she's supposed to be studying for her finals. And even if she does, it's not like she's going to do anything. I'll tell her off if she does.'

'I don't know...'

'Please!' Lydia begged. 'I know you need this. I don't what the clubs in Germany were like, but it's about time you came out with us. Start bonding again. Make up for the time we lost.'

'Unfair.'

'It'll mean a lot to me, Stiles. Please?'

Stiles ran a hand through his hair. 'Ugh...fine, I guess.'

'Good! I'll pick you up tonight. Wear something nice.'

And then the line went dead in typical Lydia fashion.

Stiles banged his head gently on the door of his jeep. He was already exhausted, but he guessed he had to do this. He just had to think about making it up to Lydia. He could always make an excuse to leave early.

This was not turning out to be a good day. 

* * *

Stiles was standing in front of his mirror, trying to decide what to wear. Lydia was supposed to be picking him up in ten minutes, and he couldn't decide on a damn shirt.

He didn't want to go out - he had to look decent, and right now, he was still too skinny, too pale, too sickly to look like a human being. He wouldn't be able to drink - alcohol did not mix with his medications. He might have to see Cora again, and that was something he didn't want to face at all, at least not tonight.

He didn't want to go, but he had to. To make his friends happy.

He was holding up a pale blue shirt and a plaid shirt, comparing the effect they had on his face. He hadn't been out for...years. Christ. What the hell were clubs like? What was he supposed to do if he wasn't drinking? He certainly wasn't interested in picking up any guys. 

He decided on the blue shirt, pulling it over a white T-shirt and chinos. He was going to boil in his outfit, but in a club he was going to sweat no matter what. He might as well look good doing it.

There was a knock on the door, and his dad poked his head in.

'Well look at you,' John said, smiling. 'Where are you off to?'

Stiles smirked, throwing his other shirt on the bed. 'I'm going out, actually. Clubbing, with Lydia and the others.'

John stepped into the room, picking the shirt up off the bed and brushing the creases out of it. Stiles headed to his dresser for some deodorant.

'Are you sure this is a good idea?" John asked tentatively.

'What do you mean?' Stiles said absentmindedly, vigorously spraying his deodorant over himself. He coughed in the cloud it left behind. He'd probably overdone it.

'It's just...you haven't been home very long, and you're still recovering. And your meds-'

'Dad, don't worry.' Stiles could see his dad was worried, concentrating too much on hanging his shirt in his wardrobe. 'I'm just going to have a bit of fun. I'll be fine. I'm not going to drink, I promise.'

'I know. You're an adult, and you can make your own decisions, but...'

Stiles stepped across the room to his father, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. 

'Dad,' he said. 'I know you're worried. But isn't it about time I have some fun? I've been cooped up for two years in a hospital bed. I need to cut loose.' He waved his arms randomly, in a pathetic attempt to imitate dancing. 'I have moves I want to try.'

John sighed. 'I know, I know. I'm sorry. I just worry about you.'

Stiles smiled. 'I know. I worry about you, too.' He took a deep breath, straightening his back, ignoring the way his shirt hung off of his shoulders a little, ignoring the way he felt brittle, breakable. 'It's time I get back to making stupid mistakes and staying up until three a.m.'

John rolled his eyes. 'If that's the case, don't wake me up on your way home.'

'But that's the part when you say "and what time is this" and then I say " _Dad_ it was just a party" and then you ground me and then I go into my rebellious teenage phase, where I plan elaborate escape routes out my window.'

'Didn't that already happen?' John asked, eyebrows raised.

Stiles shrugged. 'Probably.'

A car horn sounded from the road, and Stiles ran to the window, peering out onto the street. A sleek black car was parked on the curb, the sunroof pulled back.

'It's Lydia,' he said. Suddenly, he was excited. He was going out for the first time in two years - he felt normal for the first time since his first diagnosis. He was back, baby. Mostly.

He turned to face his dad, a grin plastered on his face. John smiled in return, some of the worry easing from the lines in his face.

'Have fun,' his dad said.

Stiles laughed. 'I'll try.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! I'm sorry it's been so long! I've been very busy. But, here we are. Hope you like this one, there is more angst to come in the next chapter. I tried my best to keep everyone in character but it is an AU, so forgive me if there's anything wildly OOC. 
> 
> I'm sorry this one is so short - it is more of a filler, we will be getting back to plot in the next one, which I hope to have out in the next week or so as I am currently on break. However, study comes first. 
> 
> (Btw if there are any mistakes lemme know because I edited it but then I got tired and posted so, like, shoot them mistakes my way and I'll fix em up thanks).
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. A Shot to the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang have a night out, but it doesn't go as planned.

Stiles had been demoted to the back seat on the ride out to the nightclub. He'd chosen to sit in the middle so he could stick his head forward between the two girls. He wanted to stay in the conversation, but it was difficult at times when they spoke about people he didn't know and shared inside jokes he wasn't privy to. But that was expected. He did his best to keep up.

The two girls seemed closer than ever.

He didn't miss the gentle hand brushes, the side-long glances, the soft smiles. 

Stiles wasn't stupid. He'd given Derek those looks, once upon a time.

He swallowed. It still hurt to think about Derek. It probably always would.

Stiles had always been good at figuring stuff out. He didn't say anything, and he wouldn't, for now. He wanted to keep on Lydia's good side, and asking about her love life probably wasn't the best route for him to take at the moment. Especially the two girls hadn't said anything to anyone yet.

Lydia pulled into a side street and parked the car. The three of them clambered out, and Stiles huffed when he felt the residual warmth from the day - it wasn't hot, anymore, but it certainly wasn't cool either.

They were parked a little while away from the club, because, according to Lydia, "the parking is awful and the car might get stolen or scratched or puked on and that isn't a risk I want to take". 

Stiles had to wonder at the kind of seedy place Lydia was taking them to.

Lydia was on her phone immediately, texting someone furiously and walking quickly up the street to the main road.

Stiles and Allison walked side by side, trying their best to keep up with the tiny red-head, despite their longer legs. Lydia was fast, even in heels.

'So...we haven't spoken much, you and I,' Stiles said, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. He realised this was probably the first time he'd spoken to Allison alone since he'd arrived back in Beacon Hills.

Allison shrugged. 'I don't really have much to say. Your situation is your business. As long as Lydia is happy, I'm happy.'

Stiles glanced over at Allison. 'She means a lot to you, doesn't she?' 

Allison smiled slightly. 'She does.' She seemed to realise who she was talking to, and reddened. 'N-not that that means anything...'

Stiles grinned. 'Whatever, man.'

They walked in silence, following Lydia up the sidewalk. Stiles watched the cars pass by on the street, their headlights reflecting off darkened building windows. He wondered if Beacon Hills had always been this busy at night, or if he'd just missed it. Along with everything else he'd missed. 

He wasn't sure how far away the club was, so he tried to pick up the conversation with Allison again.

'So, what have you been up to while I was away?'

Allison laughed. 'Do you want the short version, or the long version?

He shrugged. 'Whichever one you wanna tell.'

'Well, I'm studying history at college, I moved in with Lydia. We got a cat. Lydia's gone to medical school, and I'm working with my father's business at the moment...that's about it.' She laughed. 'God, I must sound so boring.'

Stiles smiled. 'No, no, you don't. It's normal, and drama free, and...kind of perfect, really.'

Allison didn't respond, but he could see her looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He had to remind himself how perceptive she was. 

He decided to change the subject. 'So, what's your cat's name?'

'From all that, you ask about the cat?

'What's it's name?'

'...Carrot.'

Stiles laughed, but stopped when he saw Allison's face. 

'She's just really orange, okay?' she said defensively. 

Stiles threw his hands up innocently, still grinning. 'Okay, okay. Nothing against Carrot. Carrot abuse-free zone here.'

'Argent! Stilinski! Will you two stop dawdling and get over here?' Lydia was waving at them from the corner, her blue dress bright in the dark. Stiles and Allison hurried to join her.

The street was packed with people, all of them lining up to enter the dark building on the corner. The muffled throb of music could be heard from the club's entrance, loud and bass-heavy and fast. On the wall over their heads sat a simple, white neon sign - the words "The Silver Bullet" glowed brightly in the dark. 

Stiles licked his lips nervously. The excitement had balled up in his stomach and now he felt jittery and fluttery. His fingers tapped urgently on his thigh.

'Welcome to the Silver Bullet,' Lydia announced as they joined the back of the queue. She caught Stiles' eye and flashed him a mischievous grin.

'You ready to have some fun?'

* * *

Everyone was packed into the main room of the club, grinding together, drinking, and trying to be heard above the music.

The lights flitted over members of the dance floor every so often, illuminating asses and breasts and pretty faces. The ceiling was high, with silvery decorations spread across in swirling patterns. The walls and furniture were black, sleek, matching the decorations and keeping in tune the with the modern aesthetic. 

Stiles was kind of wondering what he was doing here.

Lydia had gotten them in - he knew she could have gotten past the bouncer and taken Allison with her without much trouble, but they never would have let Stiles in if Lydia hadn't insisted.

A teasing smile later and a couple of persuasive looks and the three of them were neck deep in body odour, slutty dresses and sexual frustration.

It seemed that "The Silver Bullet" was a popular club - it felt like almost everyone their age was present, wanting to get a taste. Stiles had to wonder at the appeal. To him, the club was the same as every other. Smokey. Sweaty. Dirty.

The girls headed straight for the bar, calling for three shots of vodka. Stiles stood awkwardly to one side, watching a girl about his age dancing with some guy, her mascara smeared across her cheek, her eyes closed as she swayed a little unsteadily to the music. 

He felt an elbow dig into his side, and turned to see Allison and Lydia waiting expectantly, their shots in their hands. 

'Oh, no thanks, I'm okay,' he said. Lydia narrowed her eyes at him. 

'We came out to have fun!' she yelled over the music. 'You gotta have at least one!'

He didn't know how to tell her he couldn't drink. Instead, Stiles picked his shot glass up reluctantly and waited for the girls to throw theirs back, squeezing their eyes shut with the expected burn, before he simply turned his glass upside down and let the alcohol leak out onto the counter. He let out a breath when neither of them noticed he hadn't drunk his. Lydia smiled and grabbed him by the arm. 

'Come on!' she said excitedly. 'We're dancing!' She dragged him out onto the dance floor, Allison close behind, and the three of them joined the crowd.

If Stiles had been a little more intoxicated, he would have been having a great time. He liked dancing when it was with his friends and he had about three drinks in him - when he was tipsy, his limbs felt coordinated and he could pretend he was smooth and suave and sexy and was too tipsy too care what anyone thought.

Right now, Stiles felt anything but suave. He felt awkward, which, while being his normal state of being, was not something he wanted to feel while he was in a club. He couldn't match the movements of the bodies around him, couldn't quite pick up the beat. 

He tried, at first. He tried to have fun, and for a while, it was. It was the most fun he'd had since he'd left the hospital, probably the most normal he'd felt. But after about fifteen minutes of trying his best, he told Lydia he needed a break and left the dance floor to look for a table or a booth.

He found a table on the edge of the room, one with a few tall stools around it. He sat, feeling a little breathless. It was hard, this fatigue. He knew it was expected, but it made life difficult. He couldn't even enjoy a night out without feeling exhausted. 

He stayed there for a few minutes, resisting the urge to pull out his phone and retract into his little bubble, when he suddenly felt two hands grip his shoulders and squeeze. He jumped, startled, when he saw Scott come around from behind him. 

'Jesus Christ, Scott, you nearly gave me a heart attack!' he cried, pressing a hand to his chest. He could feel his heart fluttering in his ribcage.

'Hey!' his best friend shouted, oblivious. 'What's up, man?' Scott looked a little red in the cheeks, and his eyes were wide and bright.

Stiles smiled. 'You already had a few drinks, Scotty?' 

Scott grinned a loopy grin back at him, before he was dragged away by Kira and out onto the dance floor

He watched them go, but was then distracted when someone punched him on the arm. He yelped and turned to see Erica, and behind her, Boyd.

'Hey, sourpuss! What are you moping over here for?' Erica said. Her eyes glittered in the strobe lights, dark and mischievous, and her hair made her look a little wild. Exactly the kind of crowd this place seemed to draw - a little wild, a little reckless.

'Hey!' he said, avoiding a pout as his arm throbbed. 'When did you guys get here?'

'About five minutes ago,' Erica replied. 'We would have been here sooner, but Scott got us lost.'

'E, you were driving,' Boyd said exasperatedly.

Erica waved a hand dismissively. 'Same difference. Anyway,' she turned back to Stiles, grabbing his arm. 'Come dance with us!'

Stiles was about to pull away, but a tiny voice in the back of his head decided to speak up. 

_Stop moping. Go have fun._

He followed the two of them out onto the dance floor, and they joined Allison and Lydia, and Scott and Kira, forming a big group.

Despite his awkwardness before, he started to relax into it. He let himself go for it, and even though it felt like everyone could see him, he started to have fun.

For the first time in a long time, he was enjoying himself without thinking of the consequences. He was surrounded by his friends, and for a moment he forgot about everything.

He felt free.

It wasn't long before he felt fatigue settle in, but it wasn't like before. This was his body telling him to slow down, to rest, and even though he didn't want to listen to it, he decided it was probably a good idea.

He caught Scott by the arm and yelled that he was going to the bathroom before leaving the dance floor. A grin was plastered to his face even as he walked away. He felt sweaty and hot and his throat was dry but he felt good. He could feel his heart pumping hard in his chest. It felt good.

Not really watching where he was going, he found the bathroom and was about to open the door when it was pulled inward. He stepped back to allow the person to exit, and as they were leaving somehow Stiles managed to knock into the person's shoulder. He stumbled aside. 

'Sorry,' the guy said, reaching out to steady him. 'Didn't see you...'

The guy trailed off, his hand still resting on Stiles' arm, the fingers starting to tighten slightly. Stiles caught sight of the person in front of him and his heart dropped straight through his chest and down to his toes. 

_Fuck._

Derek.

* * *

Stiles stared. He felt cold all over. He didn't know what to do - he wasn't prepared for this. He didn't know if he ever would be.

Derek did nothing, said nothing. Instead he just stood there too, looking at Stiles with wide eyes like he was seeing a ghost. 

Stiles opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Normally, words came easily to him, but he right now he was lost.

A woman appeared at Derek's side, pulling on his jacket. 

'Der? Come on, let's go.' She caught sight of Stiles, and looked back and forth between the two of them, confused. 

'Derek? Who's this?' she asked.

Derek swallowed, his eyes still trained on Stiles. 

'He's no one,' he choked out, before finally letting Stiles go and walking away with the woman. 

_No._

Stiles was frozen in place, his feet rooted to the spot. He could still feel Derek's grip on his arm, the tightening of his fingers on his skin. He could feel Derek's gaze, piercing and accusatory and shocked. 

He couldn't feel his feet. He couldn't hear the music anymore. It was all disappearing in the words Derek had said before walking away. 

_'He's no one.'_

* * *

 

He didn't know how long he was standing there, slowly going numb, but he finally felt someone grab his arm again. He looked up to see Scott standing in front of him, holding onto his arms, looking at him directly. He suddenly realised his body was heaving as he struggled to get air into his lungs. He could feel the anxiety brimming up in his chest.

'There you are! We've been looking all over for you!'

Stiles didn't say anything. He didn't know what to tell Scott.

'Stiles?'

'I have to go home,' Stiles said breathlessly. 

'Now?' Scott looked confused 

'I have to go home, Scott!'

_Why did it have to be like this?_

His legs were shaking. He was breathing too quickly, his heart was racing in his chest and he felt like he was drenched in sweat but so cold at the same time and he couldn't control this at all and it was that that made him so frustrated.

He could see Allison and Lydia standing a few steps back, throwing him worried glances and talking amongst themselves. Kira was standing awkwardly to one side, watching the exchange between Scott and Stiles carefully. Erica and Boyd were nowhere to be seen. 

'Hey. What happened?' Scott asked. 

Stiles swallowed, aware he must have looked like a mess.

'Can you drive me home?' he asked Scott. 'I need to go home.'

He was almost pleading with him, which showed how desperate he was to get away from this place. Away from Derek. 

Scott hesitated, then nodded. 'I'll call your Dad.'

Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself. He hadn't expected any of this tonight - maybe it was too soon. Maybe he had been overestimating how much he could handle at one time.

It was already difficult enough, with the meds and the hospital check-ups and the overdue medical bills and the difficulties he was having with his friends and the exhaustion and the ongoing effects of the chemo and _Derek_...

He nearly hit himself to get his brain to shut up. Too much, too much. 

They started moving towards the exit, past the girls and the other people and the bar. Scott's hand stayed wrapped around Stiles' arm, providing him with some sense of support. Stiles would have to remember to thank him later for all his help.

Stiles didn't pay attention to anything until he felt cool night air wash over his face. The crowd had cleared a little by now - it was late, later than Stiles had thought.

He'd been having so much fun, and now...now everything was fresh. It was all a reminder of how messed up his life was right now.

Scott didn't say anything as they waited for the Sheriff to arrive - he didn't ask any questions besides the occasional 'how's it going?' or 'you okay?'.

Stiles was grateful for him in ways Scott couldn't imagine.

The Sheriff pulled up in his police cruiser after a few minutes, drawing a few worried looks from the bouncers outside the club. Stiles squeezed Scott's shoulder as a goodnight and hurried to the car without another word, pulling open the passenger door and sliding into the warmth and safety of the cruiser's cab. 

John looked over at his son, saw the heavy breathing, saw the way Stiles was shaking slightly, the way his eyes were a little too wide and a little too unfocused, and pulled away from the club as quickly as he could.

He didn't have all the details, only what Scott had told him on the phone - something had triggered this, and Scott wasn't sure what it was.

'You want to talk about it?' John asked.

Stiles swallowed, looking out the window as the city dragged by, illuminated by street lights in the dark. 

'I saw him. Derek.'

'Oh, Stiles...'

Stiles promptly burst into tears.

He barely remembered arriving home and stumbling up the stairs. He barely remembered his dad helping him take his shoes off before he pretty much collapsed onto the bed. He barely remembered falling asleep almost immediately, too exhausted by the events of the night to stay awake for long. 

His dreams were plagued by flashing lights and laughing faces looming out of the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. First off I'd like to apologise - I wish I had updated this sooner, but life's been busy and I have been struggling with this on top of everything else. Sorry. Hopefully we can continue. 
> 
> Finally, we get to see Derek! Things will start to get a little more angsty, a little more dramatic. I promise Derek will be in it a little bit more.   
> I hope you guys will stick around while this updates (slowly, I'm sorry), but for now, here is this chapter. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Incomplete Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Stiles have a heart to heart, and it doesn't go as well as hoped.

Stiles receded into his shell. It wasn't a subconscious decision, either - he didn't want to talk. He didn't want to get involved anymore, because that would mean exposing himself to the one thing he couldn't seem to escape. 

So really, he was avoiding.

He avoided phone calls, text messages. He avoided the concerned voicemails his friends left. Even the snapchats.

He stayed at home. He slept. He read. He watched TV. He went to his appointments at the hospital. He looked online for a job, but didn't actually send any applications out, because what if he ended up in a job where he saw Derek? He couldn't risk it.

He had been stupid to think everything was going well. It wasn't. His friends had only tentatively welcomed him back into their lives, and even then there was a long way to go and a lot to catch up on.  

He still had horrible nightmares about his time in the hospital. Only now, they sometimes combined with dreams about Derek, except Derek would be faceless and unreachable.

He sometimes had pain, which was expected after surgery, and he wondered if it was just physical or if the emotional pain was taking a toll on him too.

He was getting sick and tired of going to the hospital and being poked and prodded. But he took his meds, on time, every day. And he ate properly, as per his diet restrictions. Stiles was the walking epitome of a perfect patient. 

And he hated every minute of it. 

The on thing that kept biting at his mind, that kept swirling around in his head and almost taunting him, was the fact that Derek knew he was back. Worse, Derek had seen him face-to-face in a club, having fun, and had practically said Stiles was dead to him. At least, that's what it felt like. Every time Stiles replayed those words in his head, it felt like a knife was twisting into his gut. 

Stiles knew he deserved it. He knew this was coming. He had been stupid not to think about when it would happen and what he would do. He was heartbroken. He realised this must have been what Derek felt like when Stiles'd broken up with him. Except it had probably been worse. 

How was he supposed to go back to his life if Derek hated him? Derek was a part of his life. Stiles didn't have anything he could say without making everything more complicated, unless he told the truth. And there was no way in hell that was going to happen. 

* * *

He hadn't spoken to anyone besides his Dad and the hospital staff until Scott turned up at the house one day.

Scott rang the doorbell about three times before Stiles dragged himself out of bed to answer it.

Scott stood on the doorstep dressed in shorts and a tank top, his backpack slung over his shoulder. The heat was almost unbearable out today, and yet Scott had somehow found the time to visit Stiles, even with all the studying he had to do for veterinary school.

'Hey,' Stiles said. He knew he probably looked awful. He was pretty sure the last time he'd showered was a couple of days ago. That didn't seem to deter Scott.

'Hey,' said Scott. He wrinkled his nose. 'You look like shit.'

'Gee, thanks.'

Scott grinned. 'You're welcome.'

Stiles sighed, leaning against the door. 'Why are you here, Scott?'

Scott shrugged. 'Kind of wanted to know why my best friend disappeared off the face of the earth.' He raised his eyebrows questioningly. 'Would this have anything to do with what happened at the Bullet the other night?'

'...Wanna come in?'

* * *

'Everyone's been asking about you, you know.'

Stiles had his tongue sticking out in concentration as he and Scott took on a swarm of aliens in the video game they were playing. 'Mhm.'

'They don't understand what happened.'

'Yeah.'

'I don't really understand either.'

Stiles set his controller down and sighed, leaning back against his bed. It had been a long time since the two of them had gamed together, and it felt good. Stiles appreciated Scott for trying to make things seem normal again, but it was starting to dawn on him that nothing ever would be normal. Not while he had this _thing_ weighing down on him. 

'There was a thing that happened, and it freaked me out. I'm fine now, I just wasn't ready for it. That's all.' Stiles wasn't _technically_ lying. 

'And you're okay now?'

'I am.'

Scott was silent for a moment, before he said, 'If you say so.'

Stiles could tell Scott wasn't convinced. 

They continued playing, the sounds of the game loud and distracting for a good few minutes. 

'How are you handling everything, by the way?' Scott asked after while as they were waiting for the game to load a new section. 

'What do you mean?'

'Readjusting.'

Stiles didn't really know how to answer that. 'It's becoming part of the routine. I can't tell if that's a good or a bad thing.'

'How's your Dad?'

Stiles thought of the phone calls and the red-stamped bills his father had been receiving lately. The deep worry lines in his Dad's face that made him look older than he was. 

'He's doing okay. We've got a lot of financial shit happening.'

'That sucks, dude.'

Stiles ran a hand through his hair. 'Yeah. It does.'

'Mom says you're doing well, considering.'

'She's been talking to you about me?' Stiles was surprised. Melissa was normally private about her patients.

Scott shrugged. 'I've been asking. I worry.'

'You shouldn't.'

'Why would you say something like that? Of course I worry about you.'

'Yeah, well, I'm fine.' He said it angrily, pushing out from behind his teeth. It made him sound completely not fine at all.

He clutched the controller tightly in his hands. He could talk to Scott, sure, but how was he supposed to spill everything that had been building up inside him? He couldn't put that all on Scott, not when Scott had college to think about and enough worries of his own at home. 

'You know you can talk to me, right?'

Stiles turned to see Scott looking at him with concern, his brown eyes soft, open, kind. 

How could he think so little of someone who cared about him?

Stiles sighed, clapping Scott on the shoulder. 'I know. I'm sorry.'

'I just...I don't want you to be alone in this,' Scott said earnestly. 'Don't hide yourself away. Talk to people. Even if it's just to me.'

'It's really hard when the people you're talking to don't understand.'

'Well, that's not exactly their fault.'

'Thank you for the unnecessary guilt trip.'

'Well, I'm just saying...maybe you should tell them the truth.'

Stiles glanced sideways at Scott. 'You know I can't do that.'

'Well, why not? You're back, you're okay. They deserve to know what really happened to you, why you weren't around. Do you think they'll be happy if you keep it from them forever?'

Stiles threw his controller onto the ground with a clatter. He was done playing games and beating around the bush. This was clearly what Scott had come over here to do - badger him into feeling guilty and then spilling his guts to everyone so he could have a pity party. No thanks.

'No matter when I tell them, they'll hate me for keeping it from them,' Stiles said. 'Besides, it's done now. I'm fine. We can just move on, and no one needs to know the truth.'

'Except you ruined several relationships, including what could have been your last relationship; stopped talking to most of your friends, and several of them held or are still holding a grudge against you. And now you're stuck keeping the lie until you die, or somebody finds out the truth,' Scott said, counting on his fingers. 'Did I miss anything?"

'They're not going to find out.'

'Do you think Lydia doesn't know you're keeping something from her? Do you think Malia will stop looking for the truth when she comes home? Your friends know you, and you know how stubborn they are. Staying with this lie is only going to make things worse.'

'They won't react well if they find out.'

'And what if they do? You don't know how anyone's going to react because you haven't told anyone!' Scott placed his controller on the ground as well, giving up any hope of returning to their game. 'Look, I love you like my brother. I love that you told me what was really going, but I've seen what the lie has done to you, and everyone else.'

Scott pulled himself to his feet and was practically shouting at Stiles at this point. 'I had to live through the breakup - Derek was a mess. For _months._ I could have made it so much easier for him, but you wouldn't let me tell anyone what was going on. He was your boyfriend, for christ's sake!'

Stiles had been wondering when Derek would be brought up. 'I couldn't tell anyone. Especially him.'

'I get it. I know. I just...' Scott threw his hands in the air in frustration. 'You just piss me off so much sometimes. I'm stuck in this shit with you, and it's not easy to lie to people anymore. You know I'm not good at lying.'

'Yeah, I know. But you've come this far, surely-'

'That's not the point.'

Scott checked his watch and then hooked his bag over his shoulder. 'I've gotta go. I've got a night class at six.'

Stiles watched as Scott headed to the door. Scott paused, looking back at where Stiles was standing in the middle of the room. 'Stiles, if you don't tell people soon, I might have to. I don't know how much longer I can do this.'

Stiles shook his head. 'Promise me you won't do that, Scott.'

'I...I wouldn't do that to you. But you need to think about doing it yourself. People always find out these things eventually - you can either choose to do it yourself and take control, and let everyone find out on their own. It's up to you.'

Scott left, leaving behind a prickly silence Stiles didn't want to be in. 

* * *

 

Scott was right. He had to tell the truth.

But Scott was also wrong. The truth would only make everything more complicated and confusing. Stiles was certain about that.

He also couldn't imagine explaining this whole mess to Derek, the one person he needed. The one person he might have lost forever because of what was starting to seem like a mistake.

At the time, Stiles had thought he was going to die. He was one hundred per cent sure he was one of the people outside of the survival rates.

Cancer was a bitch, even in the best of cases, and his was a particularly bitchy kind of cancer. He'd known he hadn't had a good chance of making it through. 

He'd wanted to prevent the damage he would leave behind to a minimum. If he'd died, he wanted a quiet funeral, and no one would be the wiser. His friends would move on with their lives, and they wouldn't have to deal with his death. He wouldn't have to bear the guilt of putting them through that with him. 

He'd broken up with Derek because Stiles knew Derek would be in less pain if he thought Stiles had cheated on him than if Stiles died. Stiles knew how much Derek had lost in the past. The family he'd lost forever. He'd known how much he meant to Derek, and how much Derek had meant to him. He also knew loss, himself.

He couldn't put Derek through that again. So he'd told him he'd found someone else, and that he was leaving him. Over a fucking phone call.

It was, quite possibly, the worst decision he'd ever made. And now he couldn't do anything about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a bit of a short one, but I've been flat out with exams and study. So there is this, and then next chapter we will get to see more drama and struggles, as usual. I'm sorry if it seems like I've been repeating things in the chapters, I'm just trying to get into characterisation. 
> 
> Hopefully things will begin to pick up now. I'm not entirely sure how long this will go for, but expect somewhere between 10 and 15 chapters. I hopefully will actually finish this one so I can go back to my other fics. 
> 
> Feedback is wonderful and I appreciate it so much, so if you have any, throw it at me.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	7. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, secrets are never kept for long. The truth always comes out.

Lydia:  _movie night at mine tonight. You interested?_

Stiles:  _I can't tonight._

Lydia:  _come on. We're watching Star Wars._

Lydia:  _just us and Scott._

Lydia:  _it'll be fun! I promise._

Lydia:  _please? We miss seeing you._

Stiles: ... _what time?_

* * *

Stiles could hear his father downstairs on the phone, and he knew it was about the overdue bills again. On his father's salary, it was just too expensive to cover all the medical and travel costs, and a lot of the bills were past their due date - some, by months. Tension lay heavy over the Stilinski household, and everyday it seemed to get heavier. The two of them were grumpy, crabby and continuously snapping at one another. Stiles had taken avoiding his father as much as possible to try and keep the arguments to a minimum.

He had showered and thrown on clean clothes, and even sprayed on a little deodorant, for Lydia's spontaneous movie night. It was probably the most put together he'd been in days, and despite how withdrawn he had been, he was looking forward to seeing people.

As he made his way down the stairs, the shouting got louder. He tried not to focus on what was being said as he passed his Dad's study and collected his car keys, but he had to tell his Dad he was going out. 

Reluctantly, he knocked on the door to the study. The yelling paused, and Stiles took that as a sign he could enter. 

The office was a mess. Paper was strewn everywhere, case files in boxes cluttered up the floor and a half dozen books were sitting open on the desk. John was sitting behind the desk, holding the phone slightly away from his ear, one hand covering the mouth piece as he looked up at Stiles expectantly. The Sheriff looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes and a strained look on his face. Stiles noted the half full bottle of whiskey nestled amongst the paperwork.

'Stiles. Sorry, I'm a little busy right now,' John said.

Stiles nodded. 'I know. I'm sorry. I'm going to Lydia's. I'll be home later.'

John smiled tiredly. 'Be safe. Have fun.'

'I will.'

John returned to his phone call before Stiles could properly leave the office, and as he was closing the door he caught a few words. 

'-procedures were _covered_ by insurance-'

He jumped at the sudden sound of the doorbell, and ran a hand over his face before answering it.

He found Lydia and Allison standing on his doorstep, a giant bag of popcorn under Allison's arm. Stiles immediately held the door closed as much as he could, trying to prevent the sound of his father's voice from carrying out onto the street.

'What are you doing here?' he asked bluntly. 

'Well, hello to you to,' Lydia responded. 'Our DVD player died, so we thought we'd use yours instead. You still have surround sound, right?' 

She pushed her way past him into the house, looking around curiously.

Allison smiled apologetically on her way in. 'Sorry,' she muttered. 'She's missed you.'

'Yeah, I've missed her too...' Stiles watched as Lydia walked through the entire bottom floor of his house before settling herself onto the sofa in the living room to wait.

'Where's Scott?' he asked.

Allison shrugged. 'He said he had to work. He might turn up later.'

 _He might be avoiding me,_ Stiles thought.

He jumped when he heard his father's voice loudly from his office, followed by a loud bang, as though John had smacked his hand on his desk. The three of them all turned to look towards the office, but it was quiet. Lydia turned to face Stiles from her spot on the couch, frowning. Allison stepped closer to Stiles, touching him gently on the arm and looking at him with concern. 

'You okay?' she asked. Allison glanced at the door to his Dad's study. 'Is he okay?'

'Yeah...everything's fine.' Stiles hesitated before leading Allison over to the living room. He started rummaging through his DVD cabinet, looking for his blue-ray boxed set of _Star Wars_. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, and when he glanced over at the two girls, the pair of them looked away awkwardly, the way you did when you were staring but wanted to make it look like your eyes were just passing over who you had been staring at. 

'What?' he asked grumpily. 

'Well aren't you a polite host,' Lydia muttered. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. 'Sorry, I wasn't expecting people over. Now why were you staring at me?'

'No reason,' Lydia said. There was an awkward silence before she amended. 'We're just worried about you.'

'Why should you be?'

'Because you've cut yourself off from us for days,' Allison replied. 'You hadn't even texted anyone until this morning.'

'We're just a bit concerned, Stiles,' Lydia interjected. 'After what happened at the _Bullet_  -'

'I'm fine,' Stiles said abruptly. 'Things are just a little...complicated right now.' He turned around to face them, a blue-ray in his hand. 'Can we just watch the movie and not talk about this?'

The girls nodded solemnly. Stiles almost laughed at the situation - here he was, forcing two of his closest friends to watch a movie with him, and being an asshole while he did so. Well, they had forced themselves on him in his own home. It's not like he had organised tonight either.

He plopped onto his favourite spot on his couch beside Lydia and huffed out a breath as the opening credits to _A New Hope_ began. He needed to relax, and _Star Wars_ was always a good way to calm him down.

Halfway through the first few minutes of the film, the door to the study was thrown open, and John stormed out, yelling into his phone.

'My son was sick, you bastard!'

* * *

 

The room was thrown into deathly silence, the sounds of the movie loud in the background. John pulled his ear away from the phone, a disgusted look on his face, and seemed to realise he wasn't alone. His expression turned into one of horror. 

'Stiles. I-I didn't know you were home...'

His words faded into nothing as Stiles' heartbeat grew louder in his ears, blocking out everything else. He sat almost completely still on the couch, unable and unwilling to move. He could feel Lydia and Allison's eyes on him, the pause as they processed what his dad had said.

Lydia leaned forward, grabbing his arm, her eyes wide and her mouth moving a million miles a minute. He could see Allison doing the same, her questions coming slower, her eyes showing concern. They wanted to know what John had meant. They didn't understand.

Stiles couldn't give them any answers right now.

All he could do was focus on his own breathing and try not to panic.

 _Stupid._ Stupid!

Without another word, he stood up and almost ran for the front door. He stumbled around the sofa, tripped past his dad and managed to get the front door open when he nearly crashed into Scott, who was standing on the front porch, arm raised, about to press the doorbell. 

'Stiles?' Scott said.

'They _know_ ,' he choked about, before pushing past Scott and leaving the guy standing outside his house, utterly confused.

Was this what it would be like now? Every time he saw somebody he knew, he would just panic? Escape? Throw in the towel and bail? He wasn't sure he could live like that forever. Maybe it would be best if he left Beacon Hills for good. That way, he wouldn't run into people he knew. 

The night air was crisp and cool, a pleasant change to the sluggish nights they'd been experiencing this summer. He was already struggling for breath after running down the street, fatigue burying itself into his muscles, and the thin air was making it even more difficult to breathe. He knew he should go back home, that he shouldn't be out in the middle of the night. He didn't even have his phone. 

Stiles realised he was still running, his feet pounding hard on the tarmac of the road. He followed the street until it came to an intersection, and then continued down another one. He felt like he was the only person awake. There were no cars, no other pedestrians. He was a lone sprinter in a blind dash, his path lit by flickering street lamps and luminous stop signs.

He passed block after block, travelling quickly through the suburbia of Beacon Hills, before he found himself in the woods. Derek's woods. It was then he realised where he was going.

He was heading to the Hale house.

Was this where his brain was leading him? To the one place where he wasn't welcome? The one place he knew he couldn't go?

Maybe he was trying to punish himself.

Stiles slowed to a walk when he was close to the house. He struggled to take a full breath in, but he welcomed the burning in his lungs, the aching of his feet and legs, because it was better than feeling numb.

He was exhausted, but he kept moving, because whatever subconscious urge had brought him out here, he was going to keep going until it had resolved itself. There was unfinished business in these woods, and he needed to see it to the end. 

He should go home. He should face his friends. He should accept that this was always going to happen, and that this was what life was going to be like now - himself, alone, with no one to talk to, no one who trusted him. He shouldn't have kept this from people. He shouldn't have hid. 

The Hale house came into view after a few minutes of stumbling through the dark. Stiles paused when he saw the familiar building, restored from when it had burnt down so many years ago. He remembered the first time he had seen it, running through the dark with Scott on a prank. It had seemed frightening to him then, big and dark and creepy. But he and his friends and helped Derek turn it into a home again, one that was light and happy and loud. A home he had hoped to someday share with Derek. 

He missed this house as much as anything else in Beacon Hills. He missed who lived here even more.

A light was on on the front porch, as well as one in the window. Stiles moved a little closer to see if he could see in without being spotted. This was what he was reduced to - creeping around in the dark, peeking into people's windows. Well, he was already in enough shit as it was.

He got close enough that he could see Derek sitting on a couch in the front room, a book open in his lap. He was reading intensely, a small smile on his lips, a wrinkle in his brow as he concentrated. Stiles smiled at the image - Derek looked happy, peaceful. He was everything Stiles remembered about him in this one moment.

Stiles had finally figured out what had brought him here. Relief. There was a part of him that was glad his dad had revealed what had happened, because now he didn't have to hide. He could go to Derek, and maybe there was a chance they could be together again. 

He realised it was a naive thought the moment it came into his head. He was still being stupid, believing in fairytales like some kid. He was never going to have a happy ending, not after the way he'd behaved.

As he was staring through the window, he saw the same dark-haired woman who had been with Derek at  _The Silver Bullet_ the other night wander into the room holding two mugs. She was dressed in what looked like pyjamas. Derek looked up at her and smiled, accepting a mug from her, and Stiles felt his heart stop beating in his chest. It was like he was watching a scene from a romance movie - the couple getting cosy by the fire, even though it was way to warm in Beacon Hills for fires and that was probably an inappropriate reference given Derek's history. Damn it. His train of thought was screwing everything up even more.

The woman sat herself beside Derek on the couch, snuggling up beside him, and the two of them looked so comfortable together it made Stiles want to throw up. That should have been him. That could have been him.

Stiles swallowed back the sobs he so desperately wanted to let out. He closed his eyes, wishing away everything he'd just seen, even though it did nothing. He was stuck with the image of Derek being happy with someone else. 

He turned and walked back through the dark woods, away from the Hale house, away from Derek, away from everything he'd hoped he could have if he could only get past this mountain of bullshit he'd built around himself. He didn't stop walking until the sun spilt over the horizon, touching the tops of the trees with golden tendrils of light, bringing Stiles into a new day he didn't want to be a part of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaah it's been so long! I'd hoped to get this out sooner but I've been so busy lately as it's holiday season and I am currently on my nursing placement for uni. I also got sick this week so that threw a wrench in the works...anyway, all better now. Very tired, very apologetic. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented or left kudos or read this - you guys have been the motivation I needed to get back to this fic and get it out there. I really appreciate it and it means a lot to hear such positive things about my writing! Feedback is always welcome so please be as harsh as you like (although something nice would be good too!).
> 
> Hopefully I can upload more frequently as I go on break in a week or so, but until then I will leave you with this chapter. I have no idea if this chapter works well or not, but I needed it to be in here for reasons that will later become apparent. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Expectations vs. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That moment you realise that things won't turn out how you expect them to.

Do you ever imagine a conversation with someone in your head, and you plan out what the other person is going to say, and what you would respond with, and then somehow everything resolves with everyone happy?

Yeah. Stiles might be having one of those moments. 

He was standing on the porch outside of his house, staring at his shoes. They were muddy, caked in dirt from his run through the woods last night. His jeans were in a similar state of wear, and he stank of sweat and forest. He imagined this is what it was like to be a lumberjack.

He'd been walking around since he'd left the house last night, and it was only dawning on him now how freaked out his dad must have been. Stiles'd left without a word, no phone, no keys, no money. Nothing but the clothes on his back and his own two feet to carry him along. His two feet which were currently aching in his worn out converse and probably covered in blisters and bruises. Just another thing to look forward to once he got inside.

Stiles didn't want to go inside. John would be waiting in there, and he would be angry. Not the kind of exasperated angry he was when Stiles did some dumb ass prank in high school, or listened in on one of John's conversations on the police radio, or tried to find a dead body in the middle of the night with Scott. He would be angry like the kind of angry the Sheriff got when Stiles ran off into the night and didn't come home until morning. 

So, the kind of angry Stiles hadn't really seen before.

He was trying to figure out what he would say in his head before he knocked on the door and faced the man himself.

_Look Dad, I know I shouldn't have done that, but you also shouldn't have been yelling about the cancer when all my friends were around. So really we're both at fault._

_Yes, I probably should have taken my phone in case I got in trouble. But if a murderer had gotten me, do you really think I would have had time to call you and tell you?_

_I understand you were worried, and I know you have reasons for your concern, but I'm an adult. Granted, I still live at home, and yes, I still have my collection of figurines from the fourth grade sitting on my desk, but I'm a man, damn it!_

It might have been a work in progress. 

Unfortunately for Stiles, he didn't have to knock. Instead, the front door was opened by his best friend, who Stiles had rudely ignored last night.

'Stiles?' Scott said, almost exactly the way he'd said it last night.

'How did you know I was out here?'

'I saw you walk up the drive through the window,' Scott said. He reached out and pulled Stiles into a tight hug, which Stiles returned with surprise. 

'I thought you were mad at me?' Stiles asked. 

'I was, but...it was stupid.'

Stiles nodded. 'Thanks.'

The two of them crossed the threshold. Stiles could hear voices in the kitchen, speaking in low tones. It was early morning, and Stiles was surprised when he realised Lydia and Allison were still here.

'What's everyone doing here?' he whispered to Scott.

'Your dad was calling people,' Scott replied. 'He was freaking out looking for you. Guess they were freaked out too.'

He and Scott headed to the kitchen, Stiles trailing behind. He made it through the doorway and then he was smothered by his father as John crushed him in a hug. Stiles held on tightly, his eyes screwed up as he fought back tears of exhaustion.

'I'm so glad you're okay,' John said, his voice muffled. 'Don't ever do that to me again.'

'I'm sorry, Dad.'

John eventually pulled away. He looked as exhausted as Stiles felt. Stiles immediately felt a fresh wave of guilt - his father had been through enough in the past two years. He shouldn't have to put up with Stiles and his tantrums.

The kitchen was crowded with more people than Stiles had expected. Lydia, Allison and Scott were all there, chatting quietly in the corner. Melissa was also there, a look of worry on her face that was almost identical to John's. Erica had somehow appeared, probably due to being called about Stiles in the middle of the night. 

Stiles' heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He was surrounded by people he loved the most in this world, and the fact they were there reminded him that they did indeed love him back. He'd just forgotten that in his blind attempt to avoid facing what had been chasing him for the past two years - guilt, fear, and love. 

Lydia moved quickly when she saw Stiles, and he was enveloped in his third hug this morning, the small red-head squeezing him around the middle. She stepped back with her hands on her hips, that signature glare of hers back on her face. 

'Where the hell have you been?' she snapped.

Stiles almost recoiled from her ferocity, but he recovered quickly enough to look at all of the people who had been waiting for him to get home. 'I'm sorry I worried all of you, but I'm okay. I just had to clear my head.'

'For a whole night?' asked Erica. 

Stiles looked down at his shoes again. 'I'm sorry.'

'Your dad wouldn't fill us in,' Lydia grumbled. 'Do you want to tell us what's going on?'

Stiles lifted his head to see all eyes were on him. He didn't like being put on the spot - what was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to fill them in on the worst two years of his life? He hadn't thought about this part of it, the actual telling people part. It was like coming out all over again. He'd been hoping to get away with a quick "I had cancer but I'm better now bye", but his exit strategy could use some work in that scenario.

'Look, it's not important...' he started.

'Yes it is,' Lydia said. 'It's very important. It's probably the most important thing we'll ever talk about, and you've been keeping it from us.'

'Lydia, it's not -'

'Why did you lie to us, Stiles?' Erica asked. 

'Erica, I didn't -'

'You did,' Allison chimed in. 'Tell us the truth, Stiles.'

Stiles was surrounded by his friends and family, and he'd never felt more trapped in his life. His gaze skipped from Lydia, to Allison to Erica, to his father and then to Melissa and Scott. He could feel a panic attack bubbling in his throat, and he knew if he didn't do or say something, he would never have an opportunity like this again. 

'Could we at least sit down or something, or get some coffee because I could really use a hot drink right about now, or maybe even -'

'Stiles,' the Sheriff prompted. 'Tell them.'

 

Stiles nodded. 'Okay...okay...' he muttered. He looked at Melissa, who gave him an encouraging smile, and Scott, who was nodding very slightly. He had to do this.

* * *

'Two years ago, I went into hospital in Germany with what I thought was the flu, and they told me I was sick. It was cancer.

'That's where I was - stuck in Europe, getting treated. There wasn't a way for me to get home because I was too sick to travel, and I was in a hospital for a long time, and they gave me chemotherapy and operations so my hair fell out and I looked like a freaking skeleton and I spent a lot of that time thinking I was probably going to die.'

He was pacing the length of the kitchen, the words tumbling out of his mouth as though they had a mind of their own. He didn't look at anyone, instead trying to get this over and done with as quickly as possible. No breaks, no distractions.

'It was because of that I didn't say anything. I shut you guys out, because I didn't want anyone to think they needed to be...obligated to me anymore. I didn't want pity, or sympathy, or anyone worrying about me. I wanted you all to live your lives. I didn't want to be a burden.

'I was selfish, too, because I couldn't handle it. I didn't want to put anyone through that, so I made the choice myself. I cut you out. I cut everyone out, because it was easier. Because I thought it would be easier.

He was almost babbling, and Stiles realised his father and Scott probably hadn't heard this before - the real reason he'd stayed away from his friends. _Well, too late to stop now._

'But it wasn't easy. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. And it wasn't even worth it, because I'd thought I was going to die. I didn't even try to think about how you guys might feel. I told myself I was protecting you, but I was just protecting myself from having to say goodbye.'

* * *

 

Nobody spoke when he was done. He felt breathless, and he could feel tears making tracks down his dusty face. He didn't move, didn't speak again, waiting for someone to condemn him or forgive him or yell. But there was nothing.

Stiles heard someone walk past him, their shoes loud on the tiled floor. Lydia. She walked to the door without looking back. Allison followed suit, but she made an effort to send an apologetic glance in his direction. 

All that was left was Erica. 

He half expected her to leave as well. Instead, in one swift movement she was standing in front of him and hugging him tightly, her strong arms holding him close. He squeezed her back, and couldn't stop the shuddering breath he let out in relief. 

'I'm sorry you had to go through that,' Erica said. 'I wish you'd said something. But it's over now, and you're okay. That's all that matters.' Her voice was a little stiff, as though she felt she had to say the words but she didn't really mean them.

Stiles buried his face into her neck, his body shaking. 'Thank you,' he whispered.

Erica stepped back, wrinkling her nose.

'Dude...you need a shower. And about twenty hours of sleep,' she said.

Stiles wiped his face with the back of his grimy hand. 'I know. I'll do that.'

'Good.' She sighed loudly, running a hand through her hair. 'Well, I've gotta get back to the store...you gonna be okay?'

He nodded. 'I will. I'll come see you soon. We can talk.'

Erica squeezed his arm one last time before leaving as well. He knew she had more on her mind, but Erica had more tact than to pry into something like this too soon. He waited until she closed the front door before he collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table, completely drained. He felt like a hundred pounds had been lifted off his shoulders.

The Sheriff sat down besides Stiles, taking his hand. 

'You know, I think that was one of the bravest things you've ever done, kid,' he said. 'And that includes coming out. It took guts, and I'm proud of you.'

Stiles smiled. 'Thanks, Dad.'

John squeezed his hand and then headed out, probably off to work. Melissa quietly slipped out of the kitchen after the Sheriff, smiling encouragingly at Stiles. 

'So, that could have been worse,' Scott said awkwardly, sitting down at the table.

'How?' Stiles asked. 'Everyone's angry, no one's happy, and I probably destroyed any chance I had at repairing my friendships.'

'Well...people know, now, don't they?'

Stiles shrugged. 'I guess.' He met Scott's gaze. 'What am I going to do?'

Scott leaned forward. 'Well,' he said. 'You might wanna start with a shower, and maybe some breakfast. Then we can work on a game plan.'

'I don't know if it's going to be that easy...'

'Who said it would be?' Scott said. He grinned. 'Hey, at least you've still got me.'

Stiles chuckled. 'Yes, you really are the apple of my eye, Scotty.'

'Thanks, man. Means a lot.'

'You're such a dickhead.'

'Thanks, asshole.'

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fellas, what can I say...I'm a bit of a little shit. I'm as late as the White Rabbit, only less stressed and down one pocket watch (lol it's 2am hush). But...here we are. I hope you can forgive me.
> 
> I tried to end this chapter on a lighter note, and more humour will be returning as it has been kind of depressing as of late (yeah look sorry). I hope you guys continue with your feedback as all criticisms are welcome and appreciated, and I love seeing your comments!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
